Linnon Am Meleth Vin
by IndigoNightandRayneStorm
Summary: Sleep eludes Frodo and it takes an unexpected reunion for him to find peace. Slash or friendship, depending on how you look at it, completely up to you. Pretty much pure fluff. Oneshot, for now.


**Title: **Linnon Am Meleth Vîn

**Author: **IndigoNight

**Feedback: **Yes please

**Summary:** Sleep eludes Frodo and it takes an unexpected reunion for him to find peace.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Lord of the Rings or the characters.

**Spoilers: **Not really.

**Pairing:** When I wrote this I was intending slash, but nothing physical happens so it could just be friendship if you chose. FrodoxLegolas.

**Rating: **PG, pretty much completely innocent.

**Warnings: **Tinsy-tiny bit of slash, if you look for it.

**Author's Note: **I am randomly enamored with these two, I don't know why but I really love them together. So I wrote this random piece of fluff. Let me know what you think?

_Memories are denoted in italics._

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Frodo sighed in frustration, tossing the down blanket from his bed to the floor restlessly. A pale sliver of moonlight leaked in through a crack in the curtains to fall across his face as he tossed and turned. He simply could not sleep. One moment he felt too warm, the next too cold, his pillows felt flat and hard, but then it was as though he was drowning in their thickness.

This had been going on for weeks. Night after night he would roll from side to side, front and back, he'd even tried sleeping with his head at the foot of the bed, but to no avail. Each night passed and each dawn broke before Frodo's sleepless eyes.

He had never suffered from such terrible insomnia before. Even in the very depths of Mordor he had found better rest, though no doubt due to utter physical and mental exhaustion.

Finally, he gave up. It was several hours until dawn yet but he felt as though if he remained lying in his bed for even a moment longer he might scream. His skin itched with the need to do _something, _and his head seemed to throb in pain at the usually comforting sight of his belongings.

So he stood and quietly dressed in his favorite pair of worn breeches and a soft tunic, thick enough to keep him warm in the early autumn night but not too warm. Wrapping his elven cloak around him more out of habit than anything he silently tiptoed down the hall so as not to wake Sam and Rosie. He paused to scribble a quick note in case he was not back by breakfast time so that Sam wouldn't worry; he crept out the door and set off across the dewy grass.

Once he was out under the stars he felt almost instantly better. It felt good to stretch his legs in the peaceful quiet of the night, listening only to chirruping of last of the summer crickets and the merry bubbling of the nearest stream. He set out away from town into the woods, feeling a home in a way he simply no longer enjoyed at Bag End.

He walked for an hour or so, humming the occasional melody to himself, but mostly moving quietly so as not to disturb the night's natural sounds.

Finally, as though arriving at some pre-destined spot he had not consciously been searching for, he found himself in a small glen. A tiny trickle of a stream made its way across one side, no doubt an offshoot of the Brandywine, while the roots of large, ancient trees protected its other three sides. Frodo refreshed himself with a drink from the stream before sitting down under one of the trees and leaning against it.

He rested in between two large roots that stuck up from the ground, the spot so perfectly his size it was as though it had been hollowed out just for him. A knot dug into his back, but it was not painful, in fact it felt almost comforting after so many nights of travel in the wilds. He snuggled down comfortably into the loam, drawing his cloak around himself and resting his head against the root.

As he body at last found peace, Frodo's mind drifted. The sounds the woods and the feel of the leaves and tree beneath him brought back memories of a moment of isolated happiness in the midst of months of pain and fear.

His eyes closed as his mind brought forward the smells and sounds of that moment. _The glimmer of firelight through his eyelids, the sounds of Merry and Pippin bickering good-naturedly while Boromir and Gimli egged them on, Strider's soft chuckle at their antics, the solid warmth of Sam against Frodo's side as he watched, occasional interjecting his own opinions_; these things played through his mind, so vivid it almost seemed real again.

_And underneath it all was the sweetest sound Frodo had ever heard. Legolas, sitting just a short way from the group hummed a gentle melody, his face upturned toward the stars as he sang along with them, his face so peaceful and serene, the firelight making his hair glimmer light gold and his eyes sparkle like jewels. Frodo gazed at him sleepily through half lidded eyes and thought to himself that surely there was no sight more beautiful in all of Arda._

A deep ache of loneness throbbed in Frodo's chest as he lost himself in memories. Through his journey had been terrible and he had lost much, he missed the friends he had made along the way but had been forced to leave behind when he returned to the Shire. They had all been dear to him, but most of all he missed the enchanting sound of Legolas' singing, the beauty of his face, and the kindness of his gentle soul.

Frodo tried in vain to remember the exact melody that the elf had sung that night, but it escaped him. He knew he would not remember the words, for it had been in elvish and sung too low for him to understand them, but he longed to remember clearly the sound at least, the gentle rolls and falls of the tune. He could remember every other detail of that night perfectly, except that one.

He closed his eyes tighter and settled himself more deeply into the carpet of leaves, trying to lose himself in the serenity he'd felt that night. He thought he had drifted into a dream when the melody came to him, as clear as though it had floated to him on the wind. Soft and sweet, with just a touch of melancholy, like many elven songs, it touched things deep within Frodo's soul that had long been wounded and aching without his realizing it.

So lost in his reverie was he, that Frodo was entirely unaware of the near silent footsteps approaching him. To keen eyes the moon flittering through the trees lit the night nearly as brightly as the sun, and graceful booted feet moved sure and steady through the unfamiliar woods.

Legolas knew not what had drawn him to leave the well marked road as he nearing his friends' home, but he had easily given into the impulse. It was a beautiful night and he gloried to travel beneath the stars amongst the trees. He hummed an old lullaby his naneth had used to sing to him long ago when he was just an elfling, it had always been his favorite and he often sang it to the stars when he travelled in the wilds.

A sigh, so soft that even his elven hearing barely heard it gave him pause as he looked about for the sound's source. He was certain that it was no natural sound, though it did not feel out of place. He sensed no danger and sought the origin of the noise more out of curiosity than caution.

It was then that he spotted the familiar dark curls of one of the very friends he had come to see, nestled between the roots of an old tree.

The hobbit looked pale, and so very fragile in the light of the moon, though Legolas knew that indeed he was far from it. His eyes were closed and his body relaxed as though in rest, but he hugged himself just a little too tightly, and there were faint lines marring his deceptively youthful face.

In spite of the vague worry as to why his friend was out in the woods alone in such a position, Legolas could not help but be moved by how sweet a sight it was. He felt that now was not at all the right time for questions, and he had no desire to disturb the young hobbit, who looked as though he sorely needed the rest.

Legolas was just about to settle himself down nearby to watch over Frodo's rest when the younger being stirred, the crease of a frown appearing between his brows. "Don't stop," he mumbled, one hand resting beside his face closing and opening in the leaves restlessly.

Legolas frowned in puzzlement at the hobbit's words. _Don't stop what?_ He wondered. He noticed that Frodo was shivering slightly, though the night was not cold. His heart ached to see any distress in such an innocent being who had already suffered so much. He gazed at the hobbit in uncertainty for a moment, before on an impulse he lay down in the leaves beside Frodo.

Cautiously, not wanting to wake his young friend, Legolas wrapped an arm around Frodo's slender waist and pulled hobbit against his chest. Frodo immediately cuddled into the warmth of the fair being, his body relaxing and the lines on his face smoothing out.

Legolas smiled to see the smaller being so peaceful and relaxed in his arms and he tenderly brushed wayward curled from Frodo's face.

The faintest of smiles turned up the corners of Frodo's lips as he pressed his face into the elf's hand. "I missed you," he murmured before settling into the deepest, happiest sleep he'd had in a very long time.

Unsure if Frodo was aware and had actually spoken or not, Legolas' heart never the less sang with joy and he once again continued to hum his naneth's lullaby, choosing to gaze upon the sweet face resting upon his chest instead of his usual sight of the stars above, for to his mind their beauty was at the very least equal.

"Estee, penneth,  
Linnon am meleth vîn  
I Ithil hilol  
No in elenath hilar nan had gin…"

**End Note:**

Naneth – Elvish for Mother.

Lullaby:  
Sleep, little one,  
I sing because I love you  
The moon is shining  
May all stars shine upon your path…

Title: I Sing Because I Love You

I kind of like it ending this way, I think it's sweet. But I suppose there couuuuuuuuuuld be more, thoughts?


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